


Code 302

by helia7



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen, Smuggling, Túnfiskurinn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 08:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helia7/pseuds/helia7
Summary: Young Captain Ása takes a slight detour on her usual fishing route.





	Code 302

**Author's Note:**

> written for Synchrinised Screaming  
> promt: Captain Ása - smuggling trips before Iceland’s borders were officially opened 
> 
> Many thanks to Kiraly for proofreading

“The travel documents and the fishing permissions are checked.” The tall coast officer handed back the folder Ása was waiting for impatiently. “So far so good, but I’d like to inspect your ship more closely.”

_Shit_. This was the problem with new officers; they were too nosey and took their job way too seriously. She planned to set sail before sunrise, but this pompous busybody was wasting her time.

“Ah, I’ve forgotten to show you this,” she reached for her pocket and pulled out the paper she was keeping for dire situations. Like this. “We have the government’s licence to monitor sea beast activity if we cross path with any.”

She held out the stamped document – carefully covering the date with her index finger.

“Well, good. But I’d like to look around in the hold.”

“Of course.” She forced a fake smile on her face “follow me, er... Captain.”

“Uhm, Lieutenant. Just Lieutenant.”

_What, this insolent greenhorn is a lieutenant already?!_ Ása fumed as she led the way down to the dimly lit steerage. She didn’t bother to switch on the lights; she grew up on this ship and knew every nail and splinter on board. And she didn’t want this man sniff around too much anyway. She heard a soft thud and a faint gasp.

“Be careful, the beams are a bit low!” she said nonchalantly with a smug smile on her face. “The kitchen is right there, this is the storage room, and the crew’s quarters are this way and...”

The officer stopped by the door of the storage. _Oh, damn you, son of a..._

“Just a few supply crates, and personal stuff,” she explained on the lightest possible tone, hoping the man would settle for a quick peek. But no, he was already inside. _Shit_. The kitchen staff appeared in the door too, looking worried. _Wipe the gloomy concern off of your faces, idiots, it’s way too suspicious!_

“What is in those crates?” the man insisted.

“As I said, kitchen supplies and personal belongings.”

“Open this, please.”

Ása wanted this man off her ship, preferably on the bottom of the sea, but she obeyed. She grabbed the lid and opened it.

“What the...” the man beamed inside. “Yarn?”

“I took up knitting recently, you see.” Ása batted her eyelashes. “Long journeys can be such a bore!”

“But a whole crate of yarn?! Don’t tell me you need all this.”

“Knitting is so addictive! You should try it one day!”

The new kitchen hand, who was following the conversation from the door, rolled his eyes. This finally made the officer ease the strictness on his face.

_Well played, lad!_ Ása thought. She would keep this youngster; Ólafur, or whatever his name was.

“Now,” she hooked onto the lieutenant's arm and firmly led the man away from crates with delicate content and the loose boards leading to the secret hold. “May I offer you some refreshment, Captain?”

 

*

 It had been hours since they left their official route.

“What should I write in the logbook, Madam?” asked the deck officer in her dreamy voice.

“The usual,” Ása said, keeping her eye on the dark, night horizon.

“The usual? You mean storm?” the young woman stared at her. Then at the clear, starry sky.

“Code 302 then.” Ása had other things to worry about than stupid administration.

“Uhm, what kind of beasts should we encounter this time?”

“Use your imagination, idiot!” Ása shouted and stepped outside; she couldn’t handle stupidity right now and it was better to inspect the black distance from the deck anyway. Then, after ten minutes of eternity she saw it; a flickering light - different from the stars - growing stronger. Then a series of sharp flashlight. _Finally_.

“It’s them, Madam!” She heard the excited voice of one of the watchmen.

“I have eyes too.” she snapped “Signal back!”

There was something weirdly satisfying in doing _business_ with the Norwegian army. Ása had no idea whether it was a private venture or they came with the content of their stupid government, but she wasn’t really interested in it. She needed trustworthy and profitable partners, and these mountain monkeys were highly beneficial for her.

“Get ready to unload the cargo!” she commanded as they got closer and closer to the other ship.

It was the Norwegian captain who approached on boat and soon enough he was climbing the ladder of the Túnfiskurinn - leaving his companions down in the boat.

“Ása my darling girl!” he grinned.

Ása winced and tried to overcome the urge to punch the bear-like man. You shouldn’t kick your clients in the groins, after all. Not before a deal, anyway.

“Captain Ottesen, what is your offer this time?” she asked, hoping to skip the stupid formalities.

“Nah, you’re too impatient!” he laughed. “What would you say to twenty pretty crates of the finest wood?”

Ása’s eyes gleamed. She could sell an entire forest in no time in Reykjavík.

“But here is the whole list, my dear”

She grabbed the battered paper eagerly, and read through the scratchy handwriting.

“Where are the Luleå knives?” she narrowed her eyes.

“Ah dear, the joint military exercise with the Swedes was postponed, you see…”

_Shit_. Her customers would be furious.

“And what is your pretty ship carrying for us?” Captain Ottesen eyed the crate her crew has just put down beside her. It was the one with the yarn.

“ _Everything_ we agreed,” Ása stressed the first world. She picked up a ball of yarn and started to unreel it absentmindedly. “Blueprints of a radar, parts for the receiver, lemons and mandarins, and…”

She paused for a moment to reach for the small vial in the middle of the yarn ball. “Medicine.”

“Excellent, my girl,” the big Norwegian smiled with glee. “Excellent!”

He turned back to his boat and waved. His crew was waiting patiently for his orders, but now they started to climb. Ása narrowed her eyes; she spotted a new man among them. _Too many new faces on this trip_. It was never a good sign.

“Who’s that weasel?” she asked while staring suspiciously at the short, young soldier with glasses.

“He’s a good, trustworthy chap, the son of old Andersen. Trond” Captain Ottesen laughed. Trond Andersen nodded in her direction and a hint of a smile appeared in the corner of his mouth.

_Trustworthy_ … Ása wasn’t sure about that.  At all.


End file.
